I don’t really know who I am. I know who I want to be. I want to be, funny, kind, a great athlete, the horse girl,  and somebody people want to be around. And for me(i don’t know about anybody else), it’s hard. Keeping up with school and finals is already overwhelming, but then I have this question in my head, who am I? Well, most of the time I feel like an idiot who is mean and unforgiving. But I have this longing to just be kind and not say what I want to say. I want to change my image and become something better than that hurtful girl I don’t want to be.

I want to change my fate and smile. I want to work hard and get better grades. I want to be different, special, and unique. I want to be who I am on the inside.

When I first arrived in August, I expected it to be harder than 6th grade. It didn’t take long for my prediction to come true. By the end of September, I knew I had little hope of making it through the year. I have no right to say it was easy, and it wasn’t. But eventually I figured out that in order to live I needed friends. Now I’m not talking about friends that are nice to you and then talk about you behind your back. I’m talking about real friends, the ones that listen to you when you are depressed and you have to tell someone. The ones that make you laugh and brighten up your day. These are the friends that helped me get through the year, and if I didn’t have them I wouldn’t have made it. They lifted me up when I fell, and they encouraged me to be who I am and if someone didn’t like that then too bad!

As the year comes to an end,I have been through the tough times and happy times. I now know who my real friends are, the ones that were always there when I needed them

In my innocent youth, I rode a gorgeous Butterscotch pony. Though she was stationary and had fake fur, she was as real to me as any horse. She was the most important part of my daily childhood life. I rode to far-off castles in the sky, and won the gold medal in the Olympics. I would save the day and marry a handsome prince. I needed Butterscotch to be my friend, and stick with me to the end. After school, I would rush home and put on my fanciest gowns (A.K.A. My $5 Aurora dress), and go on my adventures. Her swanky stable
was upstairs in my playroom, the best place to pamper my closest friend. I would feed her only the finest carrots to be found and dress her with warm blankets in the winter. She was more than my BFF, she was always there for me.

But when friends came to my house, they would laugh and sneer. “Your to old for this!”, ” I can’t believe you still have that”. How could I ever let go? She was my only company. Then I realized, I’m getting older, I have to let go. My parents cleared out my fabulous wardrobe, and took my best friend away. My dolls and Without her, I will no longer visit the castles in the sky, I will never marry a handsome prince. I will never wear lavish gowns again, and I will never win the gold medal. I stopped dreaming. My innocent youth shriveled away, and I started to live in the real world. Today, that is what I regret the most.

“Be who you are, not who the world wants you to be,”-Author Unknown

We all have this place in our heart that tells us
we must do what we have to do to be accepted and wanted in life. We forget who we are and do the same things everybody else does. Right now I guess wearing skin-tight leggings and calling people “biffels” is what everyone thinks they need to do.

But the people that really stand out are the ones who aren’t afraid to be themselves. People respect them and like them because they are different. Their confidence is inspiring and tells us we can be original. We don’t have to be like everybody else because being different makes you special.
Deep down inside, we are all unique. We all have different personalities that make us who we are. Hiding that makes us average, and not special.

When I say things I wouldn’t normally say or when I do something to look cool, I read this quote because it reminds I don’t have to be who the world wants me to be. I can be me and if you don’t like me….TOO BAD!

Chilled guacamole and gooey, cheesy queso. Sizzling fajitas and margaritas. Chuy’s is the best restaurant in Austin.

While there are many Chuy’s in Texas, the all have the same decor. A crazy-wild-fun place. Some have carved and painted fish hanging from the ceiling. Palm trees and rainbow lights are scattered through out all the rooms. All Chuy’s have beautiful and cartoony paintings. Old photos from 1800’s and the early 1900’s of random people line the walls. In some rooms, there are old car wheels from cars like old Rolls Royces or a Roadsters. The owners obviously have a big dedication to Elvis, because they have a sort of altar built for worshiping his great music. Chuy’s gives a fierce, wild vibe without it being a nightclub.

My love of Chuy’s grew rapidly because of its great Mexican food, the hustle and bustle, and just the general fun of being there. The kitchen yells and all the waiters zooming around make it exciting. The guacamole is my favorite part of Chuy’s. The sweet, cold, exhilarating taste makes my taste buds fall in love. I also love Chuy’s because it’s great place to go any night to cheer you up. On a bad day, me and my family go to have good time.

So if you ever come here, you HAVE TO GO THERE! It’s one of the greatest places in Austin. And that is saying something.

Photo credit: kconnors from morguefile.com
Down we plunged. Further and further, is there an end to this? I wanted to turn back, but the fluid silkiness of his voice pulled me forward. We stepped into a beautifully carved boat, and gently pushed our way through the muggy green lake. Torches on the wall, covered in cobwebs, seemed to reach out at me. Trying to burn me in an unwelcoming hatred. We are passed the point of no return.

But that voice.

I could instantly tell he was my angel. He had finally decided to appear. But the surroundings told me otherwise. Why would an angel live in a dungeon of deep sorrow and despair?

As we gradually pushed on, a gate came into view. Candles rose at of the water, but they gave the room darkness. No light shined upon his face. Just a figure in the shadows. A glorious organ stood proud and clean, used very often it seemed. Then a throne so shiny and plush in rich fabrics, it seemed to be paired with the organ. It shone a pure, sweet, and majestic light.

Then he sang something about the music of the night. How it could hold me. Sense me. Own me.

Own me.

He told me to close my eyes and surrender to my darkest dreams. Rid my mind of all thoughts that the world above gave to me. He explained that I would make his song take flight.

Then I saw the mask. I had the sudden urge to rip it off and see my angel. I did. The face was ugly, scary, and abused. I didn’t cry out in fright. I felt pity, but he screamed in a very different tone. A cry of pain that told me I poisoned everything.

What could be in the prison of his mind that he won’t share?

The color red is an interesting color. Just at the top of our color visibility. It has many meanings in our lives.

One way you could look at the color red is blood. You can feel agony or defeat. The terrible loss of war. The terrible imperfection in human arguments. It looks dark in this way. It hurts your mind and- I don’t know about you, but it makes me want to cry.

But you could also look at the color red as a part of the rainbow. The beautiful colors that God made for us. The color that is part of the stripes that tells us we are safe. The sweet sensation of the humid air that surrounds the colors after rain.

The way I look at the color red is a symbol of love. The kind that makes me smile. That makes my life feel important to this world. The support and care of family and friends. The reaction that drives us on to fulfill our lives the fullest. The color that makes me feel safe and protected.

That is the color red.

“He’s beautiful, what kind he is he?” “He’s a Hanoverian,” I say. “Of course.” See everyone knows Hanoverians are amazing.

One reason Hanoverians are amazing is their beauty. They are a rare breed, breed in only one place in America. They have beautiful gaits, a dressage type, they come in beautiful colors,too. And they’re German! Doesn’t get better than that!

Another reason Hanoverians are amazing is they attract attention. Mine is 17.2 hands, and is bay with 3 white stockings. I always get complements at horse shows and it gives the judges something uncommon to enjoy in long day if judging all kinds of horses.

All these reasons just tell that Hanoverians a great horse breed and deserved to be well known. But bye bye, I’m gonna go ride my beautiful, handsome, tall, German boy.

When you think of boots, you might think of fashion boots, or cowboy boots, maybe even the play “Kinky Boots”(which I heard is really good). But when hear boots, I think of English style riding boots.

Being an English style horseback rider, I do something with my boots everyday. Oh! I just got a new pair of boots-Ariat, the best horse brand ever-a few weeks ago, by the first lesson with them, they were as brown as……well dirt. I had cleaned my horse, tacked him up, trained for an hour, untacked him, cleaned him again, gave him a bath, let him graze, and put him back in his stall. The usual stuff. By then my new boots looked a hundred years old.

But hey, in a year or two I will do the same cycle. But I don’t just do all of that with my boots. My boots carry me to horseshows, through dirt and mud, to every ribbon, to every champion. To every lesson that I have to take in the screams of disappointment and not argue.

So yeah, these boots are made for riding, they’re made for getting me one step closer to achieving my goal: a great horsewoman

“Horse back riding is easy. They do 99% of the work.” Excuuuuuse you? Horse back riding is not easy.

Ok, so yeah. One reason horseback riding isn’t easy is you have to do 50% of the work. At resorts and camps they do have horses that do 99% of the work because most people can’t even tell them to do a leg yield. Which is terrible if you do the intense-training-work-your-butt-off-Olympic-future type stuff. Most people don’t even know what a bridle is. Which is horrific for the non-intense-don’t-have-to-work-hard-fun training. Every time someone asks me what I do in riding, they got lost in the first sentence and I have to break down everything back to the basics WHICH I CAN’T STAND.

But I guess for you to understand this, I am going to have to go to the basics. AGAIN! Another reason horseback riding is difficult is the intense training.Right now I’m training with the advanced group. You know, the high school girls that are really good and make me stick out like a sore thumb sometimes. But really I fit in most of the time, when Armani is doing good on his half of the work. But don’t get me wrong, most of the time something goes wrong it’s the rider’s fault. But that can always be corrected. Just so you know since the horse does 50% of the work, if he’s in a bad mood your in bad luck. Your trainer screams at you until someone(you or the horse) does something right. Even if the exercise is tough, there is no mercy.

So no, horseback riding is not easy. And yeah, it is tough. But every minute I spend the intense training and every time I do the blood, sweat, and tears thing, gets me one step closer to my goal: Professional-Big-Cheese-Well-Known Horseback rider.